


Bon Voyage

by orphan_account



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aman (Tolkien), Canonical Character Death, Elves, Fourth Age, Gen, Humor, Poor Boromir, Post-Canon, Third Age, Tol Eressëa, Valinor, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 04:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10983804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Boromir's ship washed out to sea and out of history, but it had to land somewhere, eventually.





	Bon Voyage

The foremost praise for Tol Eressëa among its populace was that it was peaceful, far from the bustle of Tirion or Alqualondë and further yet from the conflict and strife of Middle-earth. Many new to the Blessed Realm settled there to enjoy its serenity, and others came there after years toiling in the cities of Aman, in the hope of regaining some equanimity.

Díneth and Morfinniel found it dull.

The two girls found the island so dull, in fact, that they were forced to make their own entertainment however they could.

Sometimes this led to trouble, like the time they thought it wise to throw a feast for Lady Uinén's birthday, never mind the fact that she hadn’t been _born,_  but other times, trouble found them.

On that afternoon, they had fled their lessons as soon as they could for the beach, and as they walked along the shoreline, Morfinniel explained her plans for a horseless, self-motivating carriage to her skeptical (and easily distracted) friend.

Díneth's mother was from Alqualondë, and the only vehicles she cared about were boats. She was paying so little attention to Morfinniel that her eye was instead caught by a strange sight on the horizon. "Look! A ship!" she cried.

Morfinniel turned her head so quickly that her neck cracked.

"There was no warning of its coming!" she protested. Lord Ossë always warned their lady when ships approached, so she could welcome them to Aman with food, music, and laughter.

The ship did not heed her and obligingly disappear in a burst of logic. It grew closer, and as it did, they realized it was only a small boat, not a vessel fit to carry a crew and passengers such as those Lord Círdan built and sent hence.

That hardly mattered, though, when they saw that  _no one_ wasonboard.

Unmanned ships were an unusual sight, even on the Lonely Isle, but more unusual (they agreed) was that the ship was sailing directly towards them, in spite of the currents.

"Lady Celebrían must know," Morfinniel said, and Díneth nodded.

The Lady of Tol Eressëa was kin to them both (and to everyone else in Aman, between her parentage and her marriage), and she would come at once if they needed her. The only thing that could delay her would be a matter of great importance, and the last time there had been one of those in the Blessed Realm was during the First Age.

"You should go and get her," Díneth said.

Morfinniel scowled. "Why should I?  _You_ should. It makes no difference either way. There is nothing you could do, alone, should some misfortune befall the boat."

"I could do more than you!"

"Like what?"

Díneth took a deep breath. "You cannot understand, Morfinniel, because you are not of the Falmari. I will not waste precious time explaining it to you when we need Lady Celebrían here so desperately."

Morfinniel rolled her eyes before spinning on her heel and running to Lady Celebrían's hall.

Once she was gone, Díneth kicked a pebble and watched the boat sail closer. _She_ knew that there was nothing she could do in a crisis, but Morfinniel did not need to know that.

Neither of them had cause for concern, in the end. The boat landed on the shore safely, as if it were  _guided,_ though by whom or what she could not guess, and Morfinniel returned, with Lady Celebrían at her heels, before Díneth could take one step forward.

"We must bring it further inland," Lady Celebrían said briskly, and her kinswomen hastened to obey her command.

Inside the ship was a male figure completely unlike the fathers and brothers Díneth had known all her life. He had the black hair of a Noldo, and he wore a gold belt of Elvish make; but everything else about him was foreign. He was shorter and bulkier than the Deep Elves, and he was most definitely  _dead._

"It is a Man," Lady Celebrían declared, and she would know. She had met many men while living in Middle-earth, and she and her husband had even fostered several Men who were the descendants of Elros and the princes of a kingdom Lady Celebrían called "Arnor."

If anyone could recognize a Man on sight, it would be Lady Celebrían or her uncle Lord Finrod, who was famous for his love of the race; meanwhile, Díneth and Morfinniel hadn’t even met Lord Tuor, who lived in Tirion with his wife, let alone the half-dozen Half-Elves who lived in Aman.

"What sort of Man is he?" Morfinniel asked. 

"He has the blood of Númenor, but that is all I can determine from a glance. He might be from Gondor," she added, and she pointed to the white tree embroidered on his clothing as if that should mean something to them.

The girls pretended that it did, and they nodded in agreement.

"What should we do with him?" Díneth asked.

Lady Celebrían hesitated before launching into a lecture on the burial traditions of Arnor, such as she understood them, and she believed (but she was not _sure_ ) that they also built cairns for their dead in Gondor.

It was a good enough solution as any.

That is how Boromir son of Denethor came to be buried on Tol Eressëa in the manner of the High Kings of Arnor, not that of the Stewards of Gondor, and if he were capable of feeling offense in his present state, he surely would have.

The people of Tol Eressëa called him "Firadan," which means "dead Man" in their tongue, when they had cause to speak of him, but there was seldom cause.

They spoke of him so rarely, in fact, that years passed in between Frodo Baggins's arrival on the island and his discovery of what had happened to his former traveling companion.

He put the pieces together while listening to Díneth tell a long-winded story about something else entirely, and all he managed to say was "Poor Boromir!"


End file.
